Becoming the Mountain
by SewerSurfin
Summary: "Not everything can be explained by science and logic, Donnie," Leo said gently. "Master Splinter has been trying to get you to realize that for a while. You're still thinking too much with your head." 2k12 verse. Winner of 3rd place for Best Donatello in the Stealthy Stories 2015 fan fiction competition!


**Disclaimer: TMNT does not belong to me. So sayeth Nick. I also don't own WD40. WD40 is owned by WD40. So sayeth WD40.**

**A/N: A little Donnie/Leo brotherly fluff because not enough of it exists. So sayeth me XD. This takes place a few hours before "Return to New York." I wrote this before seeing "Return to New York", so if it doesn't seem to exactly flow in line with that episode, that is why. I think it seems to, though, but I cannot speak for everyone. That being said, I hope you enjoy.**

There was a single board on the porch which had driven Donatello crazy for months. Jutting up at one end at an odd angle, it clearly presented more hazards than simply cosmetic ones. The disgusting thing even cast devious shadows across the other rotting planks, the rusting nails sticking out in every possible direction only adding the danger it presented. How no one else seemed to be bothered by it was beyond him. Not only was it a silent threat, it was also an eyesore on an otherwise smooth plain of perfect craftsmanship.

The genius glared daggers at it from his seat on the porch swing while carefully sipping from his cooling cup of coffee in the early morning light. Half the sky was awash in a palette of pinks and oranges. The last vestiges of the night lingered on the other half, the twinkling stars slowly snuffed out by the advance of the sun over the canopies of the trees that surrounded the farmhouse property.

He had one long leg curled under himself and the other on the porch, idly moving to provide the swing with a rhythmic momentum. The swing creaked and groaned loudly with every movement, vying for dominance over the rooster crowing from the roof of the hen house.

He tried not to think about the fact that this was his last morning at the farmhouse.

He focused on that nasty, imperfect plank.

He formed his thoughts into a delicate string of paper dolls; uniform and straight. But unfortunately, paper is easily cut by careless scissors.

And Donatello's mind was always assessing, always calculating, always those scissors to foil the distraction.

In a few hours, he would never have to look at that terrible plank again.

_Snip_...

In a few hours, they were going back home to New York City.

What an ugly piece of wood.

_Snip..._

In a few hours...what? What not? Anything?…Nothing?...What awaited them?

Donatello shut his eyes tightly and scrunched his face, trying to silence the disjointed whirring of his mind. It sputtered and smoked like an overused turbine. He could feel his mask wrinkling around his eyes and shifting from its normal position from the contortion of his expression.

The strangled screech of the front door opening which clearly needed a good coating of WD40 warned Donatello of impending company. He hastily opened his eyes and rearranged his mask. He gripped the coffee cup securely in his hands, hoping to hide their trembling.

"Good morning, Donnie!" Leonardo said cheerily as he stepped out onto the porch. "You're up early!"

"Oh, hey, Leo," Donatello answered absently, his eyes trained on the plank.

Leonardo cocked his head and narrowed his ocean blue eyes in confusion, stepping in closer to regard his younger brother better.

"What are you...looking at?"

"That's an unsightly board."

Leo raised an eyebrow ridge and followed Donatello's line of vision to the piece of wood. "Umm...ok…"

"I mean, look at it, Leo!" Donatello's voice sounded more lively.

"I am, Donnie...and...it's a piece of wood."

"A piece of wood which is clearly protruding at a very precarious angle! Someone could trip and break an ankle! And all those rusty nails!" Donatello spoke as if his observation held within it the fate of the world. "Someone could get tetanus from those nails...do you _know_ what the tetanospasmin neurotoxin of the_ Clostridium tetani _can do to you?" His eyes widened and his voice sped up and grew almost frantic.

"Are you...feeling ok, Donnie?"

"What? Me?" Donatello chuckled nervously. "Of course! Totally peachy! And you? How's your leg?"

Leonardo narrowed his eyes at his brother again. Donatello was obviously trying to deflect Leo's attention from something. The leader knew the genius well enough to be wise to Donatello's diversion tactics.

"I am above the pain now," Leonardo responded simply. Bracing his weight on his left leg, he raised his right one and bent it at the knee a few times before placing it back on the wooden porch as if to demonstrate his point. "See? Fine. I wish I could believe the same of you."

Donatello brought his coffee mug up to his mouth, anxious brown eyes regarding his elder brother over the chipped rim. The cool, bitter drink washed over his tongue and sputtered slightly in his throat as he attempted to swallow through an esophagus that was constricted in nervousness. Placing the cup back on his lap and holding it with both his hands, Leo frowned as he noted the blanching of Donnie's knuckles from the force he was using to grip the cup and the rippling of the fluid from the shaking of his hands.

"What makes you think anything is wrong, Leo?" Donatello attempted to make his voice casual, flat, but the slight wavering of his voice gave him away.

"For one, you're obsessing about a piece of wood."

Donatello pointed a finger and raised it, as if ready to go into one of his science tirades. He took in a breath, opened his mouth to speak, but before any words came out, he wilted like a thirsty flower.

"Now that I really think about it..." Donatello began sheepishly, "...It is pretty stupid, huh."

"Well…" Leonardo drew the word out as he went to take a seat beside his younger brother on the swing. The leader's shorter legs didn't reach the surface of the porch like Donatello's longer ones, so his legs were left and dangle a few inches above the wood. Leo turned his head slightly to the side to regard the genius and smiled fondly. "I wouldn't say that, Donnie. But I do think that you are trying to redirect yourself from something else."

Donatello was silent for many drawn out minutes. He hadn't wanted to worry anyone, hence the early morning escape to the porch. He had hoped to collect himself before the others were awake. He internally cursed himself for not taking into account that Leo was usually the first to awaken.

"I've been trying to make sense of things," Donatello admitted quietly, staring into his mug of coffee, where is distorted reflection gazed back up at him from the brown liquid within, mirroring his distraught expression.

"Things?" Leonardo echoed, prompting him to continue.

"The last couple of days were...odd...to say the least," Donatello continued, bringing up a thick finger to trace the rim of the coffee cup. "You and the others seem so rejuvenated by our experience with the spirit realm, so invigorated with hope, while the whole time I have just been trying to piece the whole thing together in my mind so it _makes sense._"

Leo leaned back in the swing and turned his gaze upwards, his brow furrowing in thought.

"Not everything can be explained by science and logic, Donnie," Leo said gently. "Master Splinter has been trying to get you to realize that for a while. You're still thinking too much with your head."

Donatello's demeanor grew defensive and he cast Leo a hurt look. "If I wasn't always thinking with my head, then _who _would? You seem to think that it's perfectly ok to just go parading into New York when we have no idea what is really going on there, or if Splinter is -" Donatello's words got caught in his throat as his breath hitched.

Leonardo put a comforting hand on his brother's shoulder, which made the purple masked turtle flinch involuntarily at the unexpected contact. "Splinter's alive, we know that now, and we _will _find him." He paused for a moment. "And you're right, we really don't know what's going on there. News reports have been few and far between and no one seems to be really concerned with it beyond that...but _I_ know, and _you _know that we _have _to go back. Not everything can be laid out before us like a blue print. We've improvised before, and we will improvise again."

Donatello's eyes locked with his older brother's, the brown depths shining. "But we lost, Leo."

Leo shook his head, a motion which held finality. "I thought that I had lost to the Shredder. I blamed myself for months. I let myself think that he had won - that I had _failed -_ and that I would never be whole again. But then Splinter said 'we choose what holds us back and what moves us forward'. That made me realize that I Iived...that we _all_ lived to fight another day; and as long as that is the case, we can never truly lose. And now that we know Splinter is alive too...let that be what moves us forward. We are a family, and family doesn't quit. Be that mountain, Donnie. Hold your ground and don't waver."

Donatello let out a quivering breath as his eyes misted. He averted his gaze in case any tears decided to fall. Part of him knew Leo was right, but for once his perpetual thinking mind could not formulate a coherent response. By now the sun had cleared the tree tops, the rays creeping over to the deck to dispel the lingering evening chill.

A crash emanating from indoors prevented Donatello from having to speak in return. The two brothers winced at the sudden noise and exchanged shocked glances.

"MIKEY!" Raphael's thunderous yell followed the sound. "GET BACK HERE YOU RUNT!"

"GOTTA CATCH ME FIRST, RAPHIE!" taunted Mikey in response as he came crashing through the front door, arms above his head and holding Raphael's red mask in his hands. It flapped as the youngest brother ran like a proud banner. His wide blue eyes were filled with mirth and twinkled in the light. "Booyakasha!"

Raphael came out of the door next, devoid of his gear and dripping wet with a towel wrapped around his waist. He was scowling heavily, his expression warped into one of pure irritation.

"Did you guys see where that freaking nerd went? When I get my hands on him…" One hand was gripping the towel tightly, and the other was curled into an angry fist.

Leonardo sighed a leader's sigh and rose to his feet. "Raph, let's just worry about Mikey later. You know how he gets worse when we feed into it. Come on...finish drying off and I'll have breakfast with you. We can go over the last minute preparations together."

"But that dork has my mask!" Raph protested.

The sound of Mikey blowing a raspberry drew the other three brother's attention to the overhang of the deck. Mikey was looking playfully down at them, his head popping out from the edge of the roof.

Raph's eye twitched as his arms tensed. "That's IT!" he growled and took off, towel falling to the ground, forgotten.

Leonardo face palmed and shook his head slowly while still covering his face.

"Sorry, Donnie, I guess we will have to continue this conversation another time. I better go and watch those two."

Donatello stood up and placed the now empty cup on the railing. He leaned forward, leaning his elbows next to the mug. "Of course. And...it's ok, we don't need to continue it later. I think I heard what I needed to. Thanks, Leo."

Before he followed after Raph and Mikey, Leo nodded and gave Don an understanding smile. Donatello kicked at the upturned piece of wood absently, and then he placed his foot on it and attempted to push it down. He didn't expect it to stay that way, and thus wasn't too surprised when it sprang back into its original position. This time, however, he didn't let it bother himself so much that it wasn't the same as the other planks. He was really going to try to not let his thoughts hold him back so much anymore, and instead use them constructively to move forward.

He watched with a wide grin as Mikey bounded through the yard. Raph chased after him, waving a fist like an angry farmer chasing away the crows from his corn. Leo trailed behind, trying to calm Raph, and stop Mikey. At heart, they were four teenage brothers, but they were also unlikely heroes, and a family...who needed to find their father, and save a city. And family _doesn't quit._

"Bring it on, New York."

**A/N: I'm not too happy with the ending there, I don't feel it's that strong, but I wasn't too sure on what else to say, and I didn't want to drag it out needlessly, so I felt there was as good as any point to bring it to a close. The idea behind this? I felt that out of the four, Leo would be the most accepting of the Spirit Quest, and in the end, Donnie the most skeptical. He's a scientist, and that whole adventure was of a paranormal type, so I thought that part of Donnie would have been weirded out by it. Not liking that board on the deck...again, he's a scientist, and a perfectionist. And that board was out of place and something for him to fixate on when trying NOT to fixate on other problems. **


End file.
